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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834463">home has never been a place for me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntled_lesbian/pseuds/disgruntled_lesbian'>disgruntled_lesbian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the jasmine dragon [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The Jasmine Dragon (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:00:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834463</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntled_lesbian/pseuds/disgruntled_lesbian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>this started as "what if instead of being the firelord zuko said fuck that and went back to ba sing se with iroh to be a tea boy" and turned into "iroh is sick of watching his nephew throw himself headlong into whatever he thinks his destiny is, and decides that some rest will do everyone some good."</p><p>[zuko recovering from being struck by literal lightning]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iroh &amp; Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the jasmine dragon [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Series that I want to read once they are complete</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>home has never been a place for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>zuko wakes up slowly to the sound of low voices and rain. someone is making a low keening moan, and he realises it’s him. nausea and shame turn his stomach, and he tries to sit up -- too fast, and he retches. staying upright takes all of his energy, and he falls onto his forearms, pressing his head against the cool wood of the floor. he’s drenched in sweat, shaking uncontrollably. there are footsteps behind him, and he flinches at a hand touching his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“hey, easy -- okay, there it is.” uncle’s voice is gentle as he rubs zuko’s back, pulling him closer. zuko curls up, retching into a suspiciously convenient bowl thrust into his hands. zuko feels very small all of a sudden, shrinking into himself. he wants to cry, but his sobs get stuck in his throat and uncle lets him hide his face in the collar of his robe like he did when he was a child. one of uncle’s hands rubs his back, and the other cradles the back of his head. when zuko has the strength to lift his head, the floor has been scrubbed clean, his futon replaced with a clean one. sokka sits near them, rubbing sleep from his eyes. he catches zuko’s eye, and grins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“hey buddy, welcome back to the land of the living!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“let’s take things a little slower,” uncle says quietly, his voice rumbling. “you need rest.” zuko wants to argue with him but instead he whispers: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“how long was i —“ asleep? unconscious? he’s not sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>sokka counts on his fingers, “about a week and a half. not all of it, you uh, you woke up now and again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>zuko remembers none of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“do you need anything?” sokka asks, reaching a hand out tentatively and then pulling it back. “katara left some medicine if” he gestures towards zuko’s chest “that starts hurting too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“katara is here?” zuko asks, running a hand through his </span>
  <em>
    <span>greasy disgusting tangled </span>
  </em>
  <span>hair. he wants a bath desperately, to clean off the sweat, and he wants the pain to stop. sokka nods, sharing a look with iroh. zuko is too exhausted to try to interpret it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“downstairs -- with aang and toph.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>there’s something zuko’s forgetting, something important -- he struggles to sit up, leaning heavily against uncle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“did we win?” zuko asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yes, nephew.” uncle says, stroking zuko’s hair. zuko sinks back into the comfort of uncle’s arms, suddenly struggling to keep his eyes open. “let’s take things a little slower,” uncle says quietly, his voice rumbling. “you need rest.” zuko wants to argue with him </span>
  <em>
    <span>no i’m fine, i can -- what happened, what aren’t you telling me</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wants to scream, but his body betrays him. he drinks the medicine that sokka presses to his lips, grimacing at the taste. uncle tucks him into bed with little difficulty, and settles down next to him. zuko falls asleep to his uncle humming </span>
  <em>
    <span>little soldier boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>when zuko wakes up again, the rain is still pouring down and the room is dimly lit. the air feels cool and damp, and it makes him cough. uncle stirs on the futon next to zuko, asleep -- dark circles under his eyes. sitting up takes a lot of effort, and he has to take a moment to breathe through the pain without crying out. uncle looks exhausted, and he can’t can’t wake him up. standing leaves him out of breath and feeling like he’s been run over by multiple komodo dragons. clenching his jaw, he shrugs into the house robe laid out next to their futons, unable to knot the tie around his waist. his movements are slow and stilted as he shuffles into his slippers and he’s in a new shirt, he realizes — soft and clean. it smells like sokka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>it feels like their old apartment in ba sing se, which is more comforting than he expected it to be. sokka is shuffling around the kitchen area, in what looks like uncle’s spare robe, hair pulled back, streaks of flour on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“hey, buddy.” sokka says, “wait -- shouldn’t you be --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i need --” zuko’s voice is hoarse, and he leans against the counter. “is there water?” sokka pours him a cup from the pitcher, hovering over him as zuko drinks it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “do you want breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>zuko shakes his head. “i want a bath.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>to sit in a tub for hours, letting the hot water wash away the aches and stabbing pains and the weight on his chest and the sweat making his skin clammy. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“i can uhhhh -- there’s a basin, we could wash your hair, maybe? katara said not to get the bandages wet.” sokka dries his hands on his apron, and zuko nods </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything is better than how he feels right now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>which is how zuko ends up absolutely soaking wet. zuko had been leaning against the bathtub so sokka could wash his hair with a bucket, when sokka’s hands slipped and spilled the entire bucket over zuko. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“tui and la -- stay. right there. okay. just, yeah, stay there.” sokka runs out of the bathroom, and zuko can do nothing else other than stay where he is. the floor is cold through his soaked robe, and he shivers. “okay, okay -- so, yeah okay katara’s going to kill me.” sokka reappears, a stack of clothes, towels, and a bowl in hand. “which is, yknow, fine -- please protect me.” he keeps talking as he gets zuko up, out of his wet clothes, and wrapped in a towel. zuko doesn’t have the energy to feel ashamed of how weak he feels, and just sits where sokka left him as sokka mops up the water on the floor with another towel. zuko drifts off, resting his head against the wall. when he wakes up again, sokka is finishing up rewrapping dry bandages across his chest. he helps zuko step into clean pants and a shirt, and stops at his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“do you want me --” he frowns, “to braid it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>zuko thinks about it for a moment, and nods. “...yeah.” it’s not something done in the fire nation, not above a certain class level, but zuko doesn’t care. sokka’s hands are gentle in his hair as they detangle and braid two braids down the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“okay -- food time?” sokka asks. “i’m gonna grab stuff from the kitchen if you’re good?” zuko nods -- he can manage walking the few steps between the bathroom and the main room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>uncle is in the main room, sitting at their horigotatsu. “good morning, nephew.” uncle says, pouring a cup of tea and setting it on the low table in front of him. zuko bows slightly to his uncle, trying to hide his grimace from the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“good morning, uncle.” he says, kneeling on the cushion next to iroh. he moves to shift into seiza, and decides against it when his body shakes with pain. instead, he crosses his legs into lotus, and sips his tea.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“should you be up?” uncle asks, pressing a hand to zuko’s forehead. “we can bring you lunch, you do not need to push yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i’m fine, uncle.” zuko lies, taking another sip of his tea. as if on cue, sokka strides into the main room with a tray of food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“eat, eat —“ sokka says, placing the tray on the table and gesturing towards the multitude of bowls on it. “i promise, it’s better than katara’s breakfasts.” sokka peeks at zuko, winking as if he’s in on a joke. zuko isn’t sure that he is, but smiles anyway. uncle pours sokka a cup of tea, and he sips it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“meat?” sokka asks, grabbing a piece from its bowl with his chopsticks and looking towards iroh. zuko retreats behind his tea cup, his head pounding. he realizes too late that sokka has prepared his bowl for him. he stares down at it: noodles in a chili broth, vegetables and a few thinly sliced pieces of meat floating in it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>there’s something he’s forgetting — he thinks, taking a sip of the broth. there’s something — </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“did we win?” zuko asks, and sokka shares a look with iroh. he’s too tired to try to interpret it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yeah, we did.” sokka says, shoveling noodles into his mouth. “and everyone’s okay—they’re out doing.” he gestures vaguely in the air with his chopsticks, “stuff and important bender things. here, have more noodles.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>zuko watches sokka fill his already full bowl with more noodles and broth. “...where are we?” he asks, turning his head to look at the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“home— well, ba sing se.” uncle says, watching zuko carefully. zuko feels like a fragile vase under his gaze. “we’ve been here for a week.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>zuko frowns, but sips a little bit of broth. he’s starting to get nauseous, but sokka keeps pushing noodles into his bowl like he thinks zuko hasn’t eaten in weeks. maybe he hasn't. he wants to argue with them, <em>no i'm fine, what happened, what aren't you telling me </em>he wants to scream, but he simply sips on his broth under the watchful eyes of his uncle. he'd never admit it, but for the first time in a long time, it feels like he's finally come home.  </span>
</p>
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